Salutations, my dearest digital friends!

As many of you may know about me, I have been a drummer for over 45 years.

Ever since I was a wee lad, I have been obsessed with rhythms and patterns. And I am especially drawn to meter in poetry.

More iambic pentameter?… yes, please!

With this week’s poem, I wanted to play with the notion of irrhythms (looks like spellcheck says that is not a word… new word! love it).

Plus it sounds so much cooler than catalectic trochaic tetrameter. LOL

The real irrhythm occurs in this poem once within every 4 lines… a longer line of syllables than the 7s and 9s that frequently occur in the other lines.

The effect – at least for me – is quite off-putting.

In a way, it fundamentally changes the feel of a rather traditional love poem. Again, for me, it adds a sense of catching your breath… or a heart skipping a beat.

Not to be confused with arrythmia – seek medical attention if that occurs.

How about you? What did you think?

Please let me know your thoughts, feelings, and reactions to this poem in the ‘Leave a Reply’ comment section at the bottom of this page.

-PS Conway ☘️ ☘️ ☘️

☘️ ☘️ ☘️ ☘️ ☘️


this fragile heart longs for love
fields of bluebells summon and ring
part the way for me to pass
into the quiet of a watercolor dream

for i know deep in my soul
you await me ‘cross this glen
somewhere near the distant forest
somewhere near the secluded skyline’s end

i know you from gaspt wishes
from each gentle feathered breeze
while plaintive cries of seabirds
suggest the ancient ache of distant seas

and my heart joins their psalm
their prayer for our first kiss
in the silence of the bluebells’ furtive calm
i draw closer to my wish


  1. I think you’re looking to create 5/4 time in poetry form Pat. You could have made it more obvious because I barely even noticed it, to be honest. I enjoy the upending feeling of 5/4 time in music. I also liked your anticipation of that first kiss. It’s so heady. Oh, to be young again…

  2. You weave a golden thread of love so lyrically throughout your poetry, it’s magical.
    Beautiful Bluebells have their own language, they whisper of humility, gratitude and enduring love which makes this poem enchanting .

    1. Thank you so much, Sandie. I was hoping this poem would deliver that sense of enchantment with bluebells guiding us down that path. Cheers my friend, 🙏🏻🍷💙💚☘️✨✨

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